


getting there

by katierosefun



Series: Whumptober 2019 [Irondad and Spiderson] [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Gen, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Endgame, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 06:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20848952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: “Morgan!” Tony shouted. “Peter!” He tore himself out of the living room and into the kitchen, but they weren’t anywhere to be found. Tony leaned against the kitchen island, trying to steady himself against something—anything—in the house. “You guys!” His own voice rang in his ears, but he didn’t care. He imagined someone coming into the house in the middle of the night, someone clamping their hands over Peter and Morgan’s mouths before dragging them away, and Tony would have just been sleeping—“Peter!” Tony shouted again. “Morgan!”[Or after the events of Endgame, there are still some things that Tony Stark struggles with.]





	getting there

“So, what movie are we watching tonight?” Tony asked, plopping down on the couch. He leaned back against the cushions, stifling a yawn as Peter and Morgan sprawled themselves out on the carpet. The two hadn’t really heard him, of course—Peter was busy throwing popcorn into Morgan’s mouth, which Morgan caught with surprising agility.

“I dunno,” Peter said at last, tossing another bit of popcorn at Morgan. “What are we feeling today?”

“I wanna watch the dinosaur movie,” Morgan suggested.

Peter furrowed his brow. “Are we talking about _Land Before Time _or _Dinosaur_? Because the animation in _Dinosaur _freaks me out.” When both Tony and Morgan looked at him, Peter shrugged. “Early CGI. Doesn’t look good.” He looked at Morgan. “So you mean _Land Before Time_, right?”

Morgan twisted her expression into what would be her thinking expression. “The one with the yummy looking leaves.”

“That’s _Land Before Time_,” Peter confirmed, and rolling over on his back, he picked up the remote and aimed it at the television.

“Can you even see like that?” Tony asked, sliding down to the rug next to Peter. Looking up at the television and seeing that Peter was actually scrolling up the screen rather than down, he answered for himself, “Apparently not.” He patted Peter’s shoulder. “Come on, sit up if you’re going to use that thing.”

“I almost got it!” Peter protested.

“You’ll get a headache first,” Tony replied. He patted Peter’s shoulder again. “Come on. Don’t want all the blood rushing to your brain cells for that long.”

Peter huffed out an exasperated breath, but he rolled over on his belly instead. Then, clicking onto the movie title, Peter pointed out, “I hang upside down all the time—and my head never hurts after that.”

“That’s temporarily okay while doing superhero stuff,” Tony replied, swiping some popcorn from Peter. “But when we’re not doing superhero stuff, we do things normally.” At Peter’s sidelong look, Tony amended, “As normally as we can.”

Peter shrugged and pulled himself up, his shoulder brushing past Tony’s. “As normally as we can?” Peter asked, and before Tony could answer, Peter swung his arm backwards, blindly pointing the remote at the TV. “Morgan, did I click on the right movie?”

“Scroll down!” Morgan instructed. “No, Peter, that’s up—scroll _down_.”

“Is this normal enough, Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, grinning over at Tony.

Tony couldn’t help but smirk back. “I’ll take it,” he replied, leaning back against the foot of the couch. “And by the way, you scrolled down too far.”

\--

Movie night was good. Peter alternated between tossing Morgan and Tony popcorn, and Morgan alternated between asking Tony then Peter about the dinosaurs. When dissatisfied with Tony’s explanation of how a big asteroid hit the planet and wiped out the dinosaurs, Morgan looked over at Peter, who promptly confirmed that Tony’s explanation was, in fact, true.

“Stupid asteroids,” Morgan grumbled, crossing her arms. She looked over at Peter and Tony. “Did you guys see asteroids when you went to space?”

There was a small silence as both Tony and Peter looked for the words to say. Or, at least, as Tony looked for the words to say. Tony felt Peter’s eyes turn over to him, and then he heard Peter laugh, “I saw some. Not a whole ton, though. Kind of got distracted.”

“You got distracted in space?” Morgan asked, bewildered. “How?”

“Um…” Peter lifted his shoulders. “There was a lot going on.”

“I don’t really wanna see asteroids,” Morgan said decidedly. “But I wanna go to space.”

That was what woke Tony from his…whatever that was. “Not so fast, kiddo,” Tony said, forcing out a laugh. “You’ve got to check with Mommy and me first.” He reached over for the popcorn, but he just let the popped kernels roll around in his hand. “Maybe when you’re older,” Tony added.

Morgan’s face brightened. “For my birthday?”

“Maybe a little older than that,” Tony replied. He pointed at the television screen. “Little Foot’s back on.”

“Hope he doesn’t get hit by an asteroid,” Morgan said seriously, turning back to the bright screen.

“He’s got a few years,” Peter reassured.

Morgan sighed dramatically. “Thank goodness.”

“She picked that up from Pepper,” Tony said at the questioning look Peter threw his way. He dropped his popcorn onto a napkin, leaving it untouched beside him. “Among other things.” He smiled at Peter, but Peter didn’t smile back. “Come on, what’s that look for?” Tony asked lightly.

“Is everything…” Peter flicked his eyes from the television to Morgan, who was already back to being entranced by the moving figures of the screen. “Okay?” Peter’s voice was quiet. Under the glow of the television screen and the warm lights around the living room, Peter’s eyes seemed to flicker in the way a piece of coal seemed to under fire.

“I’m fine,” Tony replied, keeping his voice light. “We’re fine.” He rolled back his shoulders against the couch. “Just a little cooped up, but I guess that’s expected.”

“When are you allowed out again?” Peter asked, his voice still quiet.

“In a few more months,” Tony replied. He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice, but the way Peter’s brow furrowed told him that he hadn’t done a good job of doing so. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quickly. “House arrest is fine.” He tried for a smirk. “Sorry, did I say house arrest? I meant _medical detainment_.” He had hoped Peter would laugh, but he didn’t.

“Look,” Tony said, lowering his voice further so that Morgan _really _wouldn’t hear. “Don’t worry—I’m _serious_,” he added as Peter started to open his mouth. “Nothing I haven’t handled before.”

Peter pressed his lips together, and Tony could tell the kid was trying to argue back, but then he said, “If you say so, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course I say so,” Tony replied, leaning away. “And if I say so, then it’s true.”

Peter looked warily at Tony. “Okay,” he said. That was all. Then, standing up, he asked in the same forcibly light tone that Tony had been using just a minute ago, “Does anyone else want more popcorn?”

\--

As the credits slowly rolled over the screen, Tony reached for the remote. It dangled from Peter’s limp hand, and Tony gently tugged it out of his grip, careful not to wake the boy. Peter stirred only a little, turning his face from the television and into the couch cushions instead. Somewhere in the middle of the movie, Tony had managed to convince both Peter and Morgan to sit on the couch rather than keep lying on the rug because he had noticed how droopy-eyed both of them were getting.

Tony turned off the television and surveyed the living room. The bowl of popcorn had been long since forgotten on the coffee table, and there were empty water glasses abound on the surface. Every time Morgan asked for water, Peter would forget that Morgan already had a glass and would come back with a new one. And then Morgan would point out the mistake, and then Peter would deadpan, “I’m terrible for the environment—don’t be like me” before crashing back down on the couch.

Now, Morgan was curled up by one of the ends of the couch, her head resting on the arm while her feet brushed against Peter’s side. She let out a soft sigh, sinking as deep into the couch as her little body seemed to allow, and Tony couldn’t help but wish that time could freeze just now—just so that there would never be a time when Morgan wouldn’t want to know the details of what happened when Tony was up “in space” or a time when Peter would keep looking at Tony as though he might just slip through the cracks.

And Tony didn’t want to slip through the cracks. Or at least, he tried to hide the fact that since _Thanos_, Tony had been slipping faster and harder than he thought he could.

He thought that the anxiety had been bad after New York. Then he thought the anxiety had been bad after Ultron. Then he thought the anxiety had been bad after Germany. And then he thought the anxiety had been bad after being stuck floating in space on a dead ship.

Tony sucked in a quick, trembling breath. Looked down at his shaking hands. They had been shaking ever since—well, since _everything_. But they shook harder and more frequently now, even though he tried to smile for Pepper and Morgan and Peter and everyone else who came in to stop by.

Here.

He was here.

In the living room. Not in outer space, not facing an army of aliens or wrestling with some glove off a giant. He was here. Back on Earth. With people he loved.

He was here.

Tony slid back down to the couch. He looked over at Peter and Morgan again, at the peaceful expressions on their faces as they slept.

He was here.

They were here.

Tony closed his eyes.

\--

The daylight streaming into the living room was the only reason why Tony woke up. If it hadn’t been for that, he had a feeling he would have stayed asleep forever, but the bright light had crept under his eyelids and urged him awake sooner than he would have liked.

A soft groan left Tony’s lips as he scooted himself into a somewhat upright position. Running a hand over the back of his neck, he made a silent promise to himself to stop falling asleep on the couch. Or at least find a better sleeping position.

Tony looked for the time—but before his eyes could focus on the clock by the television, he realized with a sudden iciness that something was missing.

Or somebody was missing.

Two somebodies.

Tony bolted off the couch, staring down at where Peter and Morgan should have been. His chest tightened. “Morgan,” he breathed. “Peter.” He stumbled forwards, as if to catch where the two had just been, and then he took one, two steps back to survey the rest of the living room. The bowl of popcorn and the glasses lay untouched. The television was still turned off. There didn’t seem to be any sign of struggle, but—

Tony swallowed, his hands shaking as he reached for his phone. Pepper—he’d have to call Pepper. But she was all the way in Seoul for some conference. What would she do? What would anyone with actual sense do?

“Morgan!” Tony shouted. “Peter!” He tore himself out of the living room and into the kitchen, but they weren’t anywhere to be found. Tony leaned against the kitchen island, trying to steady himself against something—anything—in the house. “You guys!” His own voice rang in his ears, but he didn’t care. He imagined someone coming into the house in the middle of the night, someone clamping their hands over Peter and Morgan’s mouths before dragging them away, and Tony would have just been sleeping—

“Peter!” Tony shouted again. “_Morgan!_”

The back door slid open, and Tony spun around to see Peter and Morgan tumbling through the doorway, their feet and shins wet. Morgan was giggling about something, while Peter was trying to shake the water off his legs.

“Daddy’s awake!” Morgan said cheerfully, turning to Peter.

“Morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, smiling so sheepishly that Tony didn’t know whether to hug him or shout at him. “Morgan wanted to show me the lake, and we kinda went for...” Peter looked at Tony, the smile fading from his face. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony shakily lifted himself off the kitchen island. “You two,” he said, trying to keep his voice level, “were outside?”

“We thought it was okay,” Morgan said in a small voice. She, too, was looking up at Tony differently now. A wrinkle appeared on her chin as she frowned up at Tony. “Daddy?” she asked in a small voice. “Why’re your hands shaking?”

Tony looked down at his hands and quickly gripped them together. “I—” He shook his head. “You two…”

“We were fine,” Peter said, and he took a small step forward. “Tony?”

There—Peter had said Tony’s name, which was how Tony knew that he must have looked worse than he thought. “Next time,” Tony only said, still gripping his hands together, “don’t just disappear like that, do you understand?”

Morgan’s eyes welled with tears. “We didn’t mean to,” she said, her bottom lip quivering, and Tony hated that his little girl was crying, and he hated that he was the reason for it.

“I know you didn’t,” Tony replied. “But just.” He forced his hands down from the island so that Peter and Morgan wouldn’t have to look at them. “Just—wake me up next time.”

As Morgan bobbed her head up and down with the frenzy of an automated doll, Peter walked forward and around the island. “C’mon,” Peter said, waving Morgan over, and before Tony knew what was happening, Peter had taken one of Tony’s hands. And then Peter nodded down at Morgan, who, even without being instructed, took Tony’s other hand.

“We’re right here,” Peter said quietly. “We’re okay.”

Tony felt Morgan squeeze his hand once, twice, three times. “Daddy?” Morgan asked. “Are you going to be okay?”

Tony looked down at Morgan. Looked over at Peter.

“We’re right here,” Peter repeated. He gave Tony a sad smile, the kind that made Tony feel both alone and surrounded at once.

“Daddy?” Morgan asked again, tugging at Tony’s hand.

Tony looked down at Morgan again. “Yeah,” he finally managed. And he smiled back at Peter, that same smile that he knew probably made Peter feel like he was alone and surrounded at the same time, too. “We’re getting there.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Whumptober, prompt #1: shaking hands. I don't know you guys, I just have a lot of Tony Stark feelings right now. I want to wrap Tony Stark in a blanket, but also, I like inflicting pain, so...?
> 
> Reviews/constructive criticism/kudos are greatly appreciated!


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